The Curse
by Merlinsgal20
Summary: Loosely based on The Beauty and the Beast, the events of one night change the life of Kurt Hummel in ways he couldn't have foreseen. Summary within. Klaine. Possible Wavid.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **The beginning of the story has been sitting in my documents for probably a year now and the other day I just started working on this. It won't be more than 10 chapters, and I don't promise quick updates, but I wanted to put up this first chapter and see what you all thought before I continued working on ch. 2. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.

**Summary: **More than anyone else in the world, Kurt Hummel loves his father. So, when he had a heart attack Kurt feared for the worst and now that he's slowly been getting better, he's been careful to not make him strain himself. One night is all it takes for their world to come tumbling down. When Burt entered the mysterious Dalton house he didn't expect for a world of magic and monsters to be opened up to his family, or that it could be the best thing that ever happened to him and his son. Loosely based on The Beauty and the Beast.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. Fox does...and RIB

* * *

**_Chapter One_**

The Dalton house had been there for as long as anyone could remember. It was a large house, mostly kept in obscurity behind tall hedges and a wrought iron gate. No one ever went to Dalton, and no one ever came out of Dalton. Still, sometimes, in the dark of the night, a growling scream could be heard. Some said it was just a dog, others a man. No one knew what to really make of the house. So, they left it alone.

When he was a kid, Burt Hummel and his friends had made a game of how close they could get to the house. No one had ever gotten past touching the gate, and, then, only for a moment. It was a mystery, that house, and no one wanted to really know what was beyond the gates, or even within the house itself.

Everyone knew where it was, just within the border of Lima, separated from everything else, but it was rare that anyone would venture out of their way to go past it unless it was on a mindless dare, and even then there was hesitation. The street it was on was avoided at all costs and this avoidance had only served to keep people away – there were no houses near the Dalton house and everyone knew not to open up any kind of business there even though there was plenty of land for it.

So, when Burt Hummel found himself in the middle of a down pour, smoke coming out from the hood of his car, right across from the Dalton house, his phone's battery dead, he didn't get out of his car at once and walk towards the only place that he could possibly make a phone call from. Instead he waited for the rain to end.

When the rain didn't end an hour later, he knew there was nothing more for it. It'd only been a few days since Kurt had let him leave the house alone, much less drive and he knew that it wouldn't matter what was wrong with the car, he wouldn't be able to fix it in the dark.

His heart attack had been a little over a month and a half ago, but Kurt was still worried sick about him and if he didn't call Kurt to let him know where he was, he knew Kurt would start freaking out if he wasn't already.

Burt opened the door and stepped out of the car, closing the door with a snap. He lifted his coat to cover his head and walked quickly across the street towards the gate. He barely touched it, when it was opening for him.

Burt kept his head down and hurried through the admittedly nice looking front yard – there was a small garden and a few flowers he couldn't put a name to and the grass was actually cut. He walked to the door. It was large and dark and a knocker sat at about eyelevel. He picked it up and knocked, bracing himself for what was to come. He didn't expect for a boy that couldn't be older than Kurt to open the door.

"I'm so sorry to bother you," Burt began.

"A visitor?" another voice asked, and another boy appeared.

They were dressed the same, in what looked like a school uniform though Burt couldn't remember ever seeing it before in all his years living in Lima, but both wore different expressions. The one that had opened the door looked unsure if not slightly confused, the other was excited.

"Come right on in," the excited boy said and opened the door wide for him, "what can we do for you?"

"Wes!" the other boy hissed, "he's not going to appreciate unwanted guests in his house."

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him…and look at the poor chap, David, he's all wet."

Burt decided to intrude, then. "All I need is to make a phone call," he said, "and then I'll get out of your hair."

David frowned and looked at Wes. "I'm sorry, but, we don't actually have a working phone. No one to call, you see, so there's never a need."

"Although I keep saying we should get one again, I'd love to be able to order take out once in a while…but will he have it? Of course not." Wes muttered some more until David hit him on the arm and shook his head. "Oh. Right. Right."

Burt eyed them warily. He didn't understand. Dalton had always been a place to avoid, and yet these two boys despite seeming a tad touched on the head, weren't exactly intimidating or repulsive. He was just about to tell them that he would walk to the next nearest house, but Wes spoke up.

"The storm isn't going to let out any time soon, you could stay the night and we could give you a ride home tomorrow." Light flashed in the sky. He was right.

He hesitated. It was one thing to ask if he could use a phone and another entirely to spend the night. It was still Dalton.

"Could one of you give me a ride now?"

Wes shook his head. "Sorry. Car's not in. But Thad should get in, in a few hours."

David looked unsure. "I don't think this is a good idea," he said.

Wes waved him off. "Where else is he going to go? We can't let him walk in this weather." He pointed outside through the still open door.

David wrung his hands together. "Okay. I guess…I guess you can stay until Thad gets home. You can take my room, and we'll just keep you in there, that way…"

"He's not our prisoner, David…" Wes began.

"I know he's not, but, he can't be seen. No one can know he's here. It's better for all of us, don't you think?"

Wes rolled his eyes and nodded. "Fine. Take him up there then."

Burt for a moment considered just backing out, running out, back to his car and spending the night in there, maybe just asking if they had the tools he would need to fix it up and be on his way. He didn't like the sound of hiding away in this house until he could get a ride home. It was obvious now that Wes and David weren't the owners of the house, and that they answered to someone else, and whoever that was, they didn't like visitors.

"Maybe I should…" he began but stopped when they heard the crash of a door, and then from the shadows came out a hooded figure.

His face was cast in shadow from the hood he wore, but he was dressed in regular clothes as far as Burt could see. His shirt was short sleeved and Burt couldn't tear his eyes away from his arms once he'd seen them because they were crisscrossed with scars, some deeper than others, and many of them fresh. Only an animal could have caused such damage.

"What is the meaning of this?" he growled.

Wes looked towards David and then stepped in front of Burt. "Nothing?"

"His car was broken down and there's a storm. He was just asking for a phone, but we don't have one," David explained in a rush, "so we were thinking he could stay until Thad gets back."

"We can't just send him out in the storm," Wes added, "it'll be just one night."

The cloaked boy nodded his head, a sharp nod that told them it would just be the night and he wasn't happy about it.

"Make sure he stays in the guest room."

Then, he turned on his heel and left the way he came. Burt stared after him with a mixture of curiosity and an overwhelming need to be as far away from him as possible.

"See, that went well," Wes said to David.

David rolled his eyes good naturedly. "It could have gone much worse," he muttered and closed the door.

Burt felt for a moment, as he heard the lock click, that he had made a terrible mistake in even approaching Dalton. He followed after David without saying a word, trying not to think about how worried Kurt was going to be.

The house despite everything everyone had said was actually rather nice and kept up. Burt tried to keep his mind on looking around at the décor and wondering how Kurt would react to it and away from the three boys he'd met. Wes. David. And the angry one who was clearly in charge and had given no name. He tried to not wonder about why the master of the house kept his face hidden, or about who else or what else resided in the house.

He was lead to what must have been a guest room and David went into a closet in the hall and grabbed him a towel and spare pajamas that were only a bit too big for him. Burt didn't ask who they belonged to and David offered no information.

"Goodnight," Wes said, "we'll get you out of here first thing tomorrow, but do stay in the room, he won't be happy if you go to his part of the house even if it an accident so we'll come fetch you, alright."

Burt nodded, but he couldn't help but let himself be curious. There was a reason this house was so feared and here he was closer than anyone else had gotten. He took a look around the room.

The guest room had yellow walls and furniture that didn't match. The bed sat against one wall with a table next to it and on it was a lamp. The wardrobe was made of some light colored wood, but it had intricate carvings and looked sturdy. Just out of curiosity, he opened it and found to his surprise that it actually had clothes within. He closed it again.

A desk was across from the bed near the door and two piles of books lay neatly on top of it. They were all hard covers and worn. Burt who had never been interested in reading ignored them to sit down on the bed and get changed.

The mattress was softer than any he'd ever sat on and Burt knew that under any other circumstances he would have actually enjoyed sleeping on it.

When he was changed he slipped under the covers made up of mismatching sheets that were soft to the touch. Kurt would have known what to call them – and he dropped his head on the pillow and within minutes he was asleep.

Burt woke up the next morning refreshed and with the sun and he didn't know if it was his still groggy mind or his innate curiosity but he opened the door to his room and walked out onto the hall and then down the hall.

* * *

Kurt stared at his iphone, before his eyes flickered to the house phone next to it. He was seated on the kitchen table with both phones sitting in front of him, but neither had rung since that call about a subscription to some magazine or other hours ago. It should have rang at least an hour ago. He picked up the house phone, still eying his cell phone as he walked to the refrigerator and grabbed the paper stuck under a souvenir magnet of a sandal from an amusement park they'd gone to years ago and stared at Carole's number for a while before dialing.

Kurt hadn't wanted to call her unless he was really sure that something must have happened, but now he was concerned and he hoped more than anything that they both had just fallen asleep over at her house where his dad had been for the night on a date – which could not have happened at their house because "Kurt, I'm tired of being cooped up in this house". As much as he didn't think about what could lead to his father falling asleep at Carole's, he hoped it was the case because everything else was too hard to try to think about, not when he had just almost lost his dad.

Carole picked up after the fourth ring, and she sounded as if she'd been sleeping. It gave him hope even though a part of him was slightly disturbed. "Hello?"

"Carole, it's Kurt. Is my dad…does he happen to still be there?" Before she could answer, he rushed out: "because he hasn't gotten home and I'm just…it hasn't been too long since he was…" He trailed off.

He could hear Carole moving. "He left more than two hours ago, said he promised he'd be home early." She sounded worried.

Kurt tried to keep himself calm, he tried to stop himself from forming horrible scenarios in his mind about how his heart could have given out again, or how he could have gotten into a pile up, or countless of other things.

"Kurt, honey, can you keep calm? I'm going to drive the way I assumed he would have gone home, and I'll be over in a bit…I don't want you alone. For all we know he just made a stop somewhere and lost track of time, or a whole bunch of other things. Have you tried his phone?"

Kurt had, back when his dad had been only half an hour late, but the call had gone straight to voice mail. He'd lost count of the number of voice mails he'd left, not that his dad would be able to figure out how to get to them.

"Yeah. Just got his voice mail. He probably forgot to charge it again."

"Oh, that man," Carole said and then, "Alright, I'm heading out Kurt. I'll see you in a bit, hopefully with your dad. Don't worry too much, alright?"

He took a deep breath. "I'll try."

He walked back to the couch where he'd been sitting and unlocked the screen for his phone just in case. There'd been no calls, just a text from Mercedes that he ignored for the moment until the thought crossed his mind that maybe she knew where he was. The text was just a question about a hat. Kurt couldn't even let himself enjoy the fashion related question, he just sank into the couch.

Carole arrived about an hour later without Burt. "I couldn't find him or the car anywhere," she told Kurt.

Kurt wrung his hands together. "Where do you think he is? Should I call the police?"

"Let's give him a bit more time," Carole suggested, "then we can start calling hospitals or the police, okay,"

Kurt's face had paled at the mention of calling the hospital, and Carole was quick to reassure him, "if you haven't heard from one already there shouldn't be anything to worry about. But just in case."

He nodded sharply and looked at his phone again. "I shouldn't have let him go alone," he said, "but there was just…I couldn't miss…" he trailed off.

When another hour went by without a word from Burt, Carole took it upon herself to make the calls while Kurt made them a fresh pot of coffee. Every terrible scenario that he could think of was going through Kurt's brain. He couldn't concentrate on just one, they all just blended together until Kurt was incapable of doing much else but try to rule out the more ridiculous of possibilities.

He hadn't checked into any hospital. The police told them they would take a look around but that they couldn't do much until he was missing for twenty four hours at least.

Kurt and Carole spent the night with their phones and despite the three cups of coffee, Kurt fell asleep a few hours into their vigil.

When he woke up around 6 am the next morning it took him a while to remember that something must have happened to his dad. Carole who was half asleep in her chair, tried to get up too, but Kurt just shook his head as he yawned.

"I'm going to get more coffee and go out to look for him. I'll call if I see anything."

When she tried to stop him, he waved her off. "No," he said, "I'm alright, I'll try everywhere between this house and yours."

Kurt knew his father. It wasn't like him to not call or leave an explanation if he was going to be out all night and even if his phone was dead, he would have found a phone to use. He definitely wouldn't have let Kurt think the worst after the heart attack.

He drove around, following the route he knew his father usually took to Carole's house, and then starting to go through the back roads he could have taken if there had been too much traffic, still he found nothing. It was as he was losing hope of finding him, that he spotted the car and for a split moment he almost convinced himself that it couldn't be his dad's car. He parked behind it and got out and knew at once it was his dad's because of the small bag Kurt had gotten him for his birthday last year to carry tools. It was sitting in the backseat. His dad wasn't in the car though, but his phone sat on the passenger seat.

There were no houses in the near vicinity except for the one that had tall hedges and the wrought iron gate. He wondered for a moment if his dad could have gone in there for help. Kurt still didn't understand why there hadn't been a call though. The gate opened with just a push and he walked towards the mansion like house with awe as he took it in. What he would have done to have lived here.

He walked up to the door and used the brass knocker, after three knocks he waited, but no one came to the door. He knocked again. Nothing. He walked to the window and tried to look inside, but the windows hid everything, so, Kurt walked carefully around the bed of flowers to try and find another window to knock on. He was so unfocused, thinking about his father he didn't see the other boy that was busy clipping flowers from a bush and ran right into him and toppled over him.

"Oh, god, sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Sorry. So sorry," an Asian boy said and helped him up. "You really shouldn't be here, though. He's not very happy today and it's all my fault really and now that man will probably die up there and it'll just be terrible. He just has such a temper."

"Man? What man?"

It couldn't be his father.

"He came in last night during the storm and we let him stay the night, this morning there was some sort of incident, I don't know what happened exactly, but now he's just locked up and I don't know what will happen to him now."

Kurt didn't want to believe that it could be his father down there, but where else could he have gone?

"Take me to him," he told the other boy who began to shake his head. "Please. I need to know if he's my father."

The Asian boy hesitated, looking torn, and then sighed. "You have to be quiet and do whatever I say." He held Kurt's gaze for a long moment as if to see if Kurt would agree.

"Yes, sure. Anything."

"Okay, but remember you said you would."

Kurt nodded. He'd do anything. He needed to be sure if it was his father who was being kept in this house. Wes began walking towards the back of the house and Kurt followed him, trying to figure out why anything could have gone wrong with just knocking on someone's door.

The back of the house was just as beautiful as the front and even maybe better. There was a large fountain that didn't have any water but instead just a few fallen leaves, and there were roses and other flowers all around. A tree offered shade, standing tall and above everything else.

We led Kurt to the back door and opened it and entered first. They stepped into a hallway and Wes said nothing as he continued walking inside, into a room whose furniture was covered in sheets and then towards stairs. Here, Wes paused.

"The man – your father – is in the attic. Now I can't promise you anything, so just follow me and don't make a sound."

Kurt nodded. Wes turned and started up the stairs.

Kurt followed silently and didn't even try to look around – if his father had gotten put up there because of his curiosity, he would try to not be interested in any of the house's contents.

They didn't meet anyone on their way up there and Kurt wondered who else aside from Wes lived there. The last of the stairs were not carpeted like the rest and on Kurt's first step creaked. Wes paused, but continued on a moment later.

The attic didn't look like an attic other than that the roof was sort of slanted. Wes walked to a white door.

"He's in here," he said, "now, I don't know if he's your dad and I'd love to help, but I can't do more than show you to this room. I'm in enough trouble as it is."

Wes motioned towards the door and then he left the way he came and Kurt stared at the door for a long while before he turned the doorknob and pushed it open.

In the part of the attic that he and Wes had been standing there had been light from a window, but past the door there was nothing. Here you could see the beams from the roof, nails sticking out everywhere. There was no window and as far as Kurt could see no lamps or other source of light.

A lump sat towards the corner, and Kurt with just the light from outside of this room could make out a familiar shape. It had to be his dad. It just had to. But what could he have done to insult the master of the house – whoever that man was – to be put up here.

"Dad?" He asked.

The body moved and coughed.

Kurt rushed forward. "Dad?" He reached towards his shoulders with both hands and shook him a little. "It's Kurt, dad, come on, wake up."

His eyes opened slowly and he shook his head.

"Come, it's me, dad, we have to go."

Kurt helped him get back up on his feet, but Burt groggy as he was swayed on his feet and Kurt had to hold him up until he got his bearings. As they stepped out of the room, he was finally able to see his dad properly. He wore a nice set of pajamas that were slightly too big on him and he actually didn't look like he'd been hurt or anything.

"Kurt, what are you doing here?"

"Well, you didn't turn up last night, did you?" Kurt said, "I was worried. I called Carole. But, let's talk about this later. We have to be quiet. These stairs creak."

Somehow they made it down the stairs and to the other set of stair that took them to the second floor and Kurt was almost smiling at their luck. They were close. They could go out the back through the kitchen and around the house and then to his car and once home they could get one of the guys from the shop to go out and get his dad's car. Kurt had it all planned out.

They didn't make it to the first floor. Because instead, as they walked down the hall towards the last of the stairs someone coughed and then the body of a boy a little shorter than Kurt stood right in front of him.

"What do you think you're doing?" He asked.

His voice was the thing that gave away his power in the house, that and his confident stance and Kurt stepped back.

"Because I think you think you can take my prisoner without permission. Who let you in?"

Kurt shrugged. "Last I heard, it isn't legal to kidnap."

The boy was hidden in a too big sweatshirt, and he had a mask over his face that Kurt decided had to be to hide his identity – not the move of someone that wasn't guilty.

"So, step aside," Kurt continued, "We won't press charges, just let us go."

"You can go," he said at once and then he pointed at Burt, "he can't."

He wasn't necessarily scary. Kurt even thought he could take him down if he wanted to – maybe.

"We're going," Kurt pressed and swept past him. The boy didn't even try to stop him.

Instead, he laughed. "Goodluck," he said, "you'll need it." Then he followed them as they walked to the front door. Kurt walked straight out but his father stopped right at the door and no amount of pressure forward allowed him to leave the house.

* * *

**Author's Note: **This story is going to be a bit like one of my previous stories, Just Like in Fairy Tales (based around The Little Mermaid) in that the plot is not going to follow that story directly. Of course this will contain some magic and that supernatural/fantasy element that all fairy tales need. I'm actually really excited to see how this turns out and I hope you guys all enjoyed it. I haven't started on ch. 2 yet but I will soon.

If you have any questions don't hesitate to ask. I'm also on tumblr where I will probably leave little progress reports on how my writing is going and occasionally previews for upcoming chapters. So stop by. tumblr: emquin.

Thank you for reading.

Please Review.

-Erika


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **Thank you to everyone that reviewed and alerted this story and I hope you like this next chapter.

I've been working on this chapter on and off mostly because the beginning was annoying me and because I was inspired to work on my original novel (got a whole chapter of that written this past week). But I finally managed to really work on it today. So, I hope you all like it.

Anyway, I'm not too fond of the title for this fic, even though the curse is an important part of it and I forgot to mention last time, but I would love suggestions for something I could change this to now that two chapters are posted and you guys have some idea of what the story will be about. So if you have any idea, please leave your input. (I'm horrible with titles). Thank you again. Enjoy.

**Summary: **More than anyone else in the world, Kurt Hummel loves his father. So, when he had a heart attack Kurt feared for the worst and now that he's slowly been getting better, he's been careful to not make him strain himself. One night is all it takes for their world to come tumbling down. When Burt entered the mysterious Dalton house he didn't expect for a world of magic and monsters to be opened up to his family, or that it could be the best thing that ever happened to him and his son. Loosely based on The Beauty and the Beast.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. Fox does...and RIB

* * *

**_Chapter Two_**

"No," Kurt said, and then repeated it again, "no."

The man had followed them down and a couple of other boys had been attracted towards them too. Wes, who Kurt had met earlier stood between a boy with black hair and a black boy who he slowly inched closer to.

"Dad, you…why?" He carefully stepped back into the house, "why is this happening? Let him go, damn you!"

He stood on the first steps of the stairs and he shook his head, "it's not under my control. He must stay – the magic demands it."

Kurt couldn't figure out what he was expected to do. He couldn't leave his dad there, that wasn't a possibility, but if he couldn't even step out of the house…wait, had he said magic?

"Magic? Magic doesn't exist. I don't know what you're trying to pull here but we're leaving and…"

"He can't," one of the other boys said, "if the magic of the house won't let him then, he can't go."

Kurt let his eyes close. This was a nightmare. He couldn't believe that this was happening. Magic. It was laughable. He pushed his father towards the door again and this time he went right through the door.

"Yes, he can," he said to the boys behind him but when he approached the door this time it was he that couldn't go through and magic had to be only reason because nothing else could explain the force field that had appeared there, hard as a wall.

Kurt threw all of his weight on it, pushing to leave but nothing came of it.

"Come on, one of you try. Please," he said turning to the other boys.

Wes stepped forward and he went right through and stood next to his father, but Kurt couldn't.

"You're blood related," the boy from before spoke, "the magic will let you take his place, but it won't let you both leave."

The whole magic aspect of the entire affair was still freaking Kurt out, but not being able to cross the door while everyone else could made it clear that it had be real and that there was no way around it.

"Dad, you can go," he said after a long moment leaning against the barrier that kept him in, "I'll stay – you can go. Carole's probably waiting at home. Just take my car. We can – I'll figure something out."

"No, Kurt, I'll stay," his dad said and came right into the house again, "I'll be alright here and nothing will happen to me and…"

Kurt cut him off, pulling him into a tight hug. "You're still sick, dad, you need your medication and rest and you can't be under stress. Please go. I'll – I'll call Carole and you can just bring some of my stuff and we'll figure something out okay?"

His dad rushed back into the house and pulled Kurt into his arms. They hugged for a while and then Burt tried to maneuver Kurt towards the door, but he turned and stopped him go.

"Go," he told him and looked at the other boys around him, "I'll be okay."

"No, Kurt, I…"

Kurt threw his keys at him.

"Go."

Kurt closed the door and he leaned against it. He heard his father knock a few times with the knocker and with his fists and then finally a few minutes later heard him shout, "I'll be back, Kurt!" before he walked away from the house.

He lifted his head to look at the other boys, then, "now what?" he asked.

The boy that hid his face muttered something to Wes and then walked towards another room and out of sight without another word and Kurt stared after him curiously.

"Who is he?" he asked Wes.

"He is the master of the house," Wes said, "but never mind that now. Come, we'll get you settled in."

Kurt looked back in the direction he'd gone.

"I'm David," the black boy said and extended his hand, "and this is Thad." He motioned towards the other boy, "you'd do best to listen to us and not go off on your own – that was your father's mistake."

Kurt frowned at that. He was lead back up the stairs and he couldn't help but wonder if they were going to just throw him into that attic room his father had been in. He hoped not. He said nothing and followed David. Wes and Thad trailed after him.

"You'll stay in one of the guest rooms," David said, "and I guess I'll warn you now, the master is very private and there are rooms in this house that you should not go near."

"Is that what my dad did?" Kurt asked.

His mind was going in circles. He didn't know what to think or how to respond to everything that was happening and so he was doing the one thing that he could do, not respond and take everything calmly and keep pushing everything he learned into his head for later revision.

"Yes," Thad said, "it was probably an accident and these two didn't explain – but he went into one of his personal rooms and he touched something."

"Something whose magic is now keeping me here as punishment?" Kurt asked, eyes narrowed.

"Yes."

He had to be dreaming. He must still be sitting in the kitchen by the phone waiting up for his dad. This was just some insane dream brought on by all the coffee he'd drunk or something. His dad would shake his shoulder any time now as he got home with an excuse for why he was late. This wasn't happening.

Except it was.

"Your father stayed here last night," Wes said showing him the room, "you're allowed around the house, just stick to the common areas. Anything downstairs except the room whose door is always closed."

Kurt nodded. The room was simple, and it wasn't at all to Kurt's liking.

"How long do I stay here?" he asked.

The boys all stared at him, faces blank as if they didn't know just how to answer.

"How long? A month? A year?"

David shook his head.

"Two?"

They didn't answer and that was enough for Kurt. It was indefinite. They didn't know. As long as that magic – whatever it was – held him there, he wouldn't be going anywhere and of course they didn't know how long that'd be.

* * *

Meditation was supposed to help. He sat in the middle of his mediation room, legs folded and hands on his knees but no matter how hard he tried to clear his mind, his thoughts would always stray to those eyes. Blue. Green. Swirls of grey and amber. He couldn't close his eyes without them coming to mind, showing up and staring at him accusingly and with so much stubbornness and dislike.

Kurt Hummel was like no one Blaine had ever met and a part of him was very glad that it was he and not his father that had stayed behind. For once the magic that surrounded the house had done well, but Blaine still despised every ounce of it.

The door to the room was pushed open and had Blaine not gotten a whiff of Thad's familiar scent he would have done more than just looked up.

"He's the one, Blaine," Thad said. He walked to stand in front of Blaine and Blaine slowly got to his feet.

The room was dimly lit and from the floor, Blaine had still been hidden in shadow, but once he was standing that was no longer the case. Instead, his face was visible now. Scarred with cuts deep and shallow all looking quite fresh his face was a sight to behold, but Thad didn't even flinch when he looked at him. Any inch of skin was scarred and his hair, an afro of curls falling onto his forehead, did not make him look any better.

"Kurt Hummel could be the one to break the curse," Thad said.

Blaine snorted. "I don't think so. Did you see him? He's…" But he couldn't continue. He couldn't admit it. Saying that Kurt had taken his breath away, that he was the most beautiful person he'd ever met would make all of this all the much harder.

"Gay," Thad said, "Kurt is gay and he's not afraid of showing it and I think if you tried he could surprise you."

Blaine shook his head. There was no point in hoping, in letting himself believe that maybe this time it'd be different and that everything could change again to how it had been.

"He was upset about his father and yet his clothes – he was well dressed and his hair was done, and he's just…"

Thad reached towards him and grabbed his shoulders, "you of all people should know not to judge someone by those things."

Blaine stared at Thad before he closed his eyes, "I don't know."

Thad nodded. "That's alright. For now. He's settling in, Wes and David like him."

"Of course they do."

Thad didn't say anything else before he left the room.

Blaine paced around the room for a while, resembling quite closely a caged animal. He paused in front of one of the windows that looked out at the backyard and he pressed his forehead against the glass. He'd become so used to his cuts that he didn't even make a noise at the pain that filled him when the skin pressed against the glass or stretched.

It wasn't fair. None of it was fair.

He was this monster, cursed to live for eternity seeking the one person that could break the spell and give him back his life. But what life would he have? All he had left was this house and his three friends. Now, Kurt. But he wasn't even sure if the spell had already extended to Kurt too. He definitely wasn't the curse breaker. He couldn't be.

It was still light out and Blaine almost longed for night to fall. Then, maybe the thoughts of those eyes could go away.

In another life he might have been able to think of Kurt that way – he might have been able to admire him and want him, and even hope that Kurt might feel the same way. But he was a monster and Kurt deserved so much more than that.

Blaine sat down again, right in the middle of the room, and he slowly calmed his breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Stop thinking. Inhale. Exhale.

It took only five more minutes of trying before he gave up. He stood up and grabbed his sweatshirt, slipping it on and covering his face with the hood just in case. He would hide this from Kurt for as long as possible.

* * *

For the first hour, Kurt lay in the bed curled up and wondering just what would happen to him. His phone had buzzed a few times but he hadn't gotten the energy to fish it out of his pocket and see who it was.

The next hour he spent it by the window, staring out past the heavy curtains at the empty street.

During the third hour, Kurt finally realized where he was. It had been the shock, he knew that had kept him from actually realizing that he'd gone to the Dalton house. Suddenly, he didn't know what to think, because everything he knew about the house was legend or as he'd once told his father, a fictional account to scare kids.

When Kurt was thirteen and he'd slowly begun realizing that he didn't like girls like all the other boys in his classes did he'd pushed the thought away and scared of what that meant had buried himself in other things. First and foremost had come his love of clothes and although he'd always been a fashionable child – a trait carried on from his mother who started his love of scarves – at thirteen it had become suddenly more important. Another thing he'd pursued was knowledge and one of the things that Kurt had wound up reading about at one point had been about this very house he was sitting in.

The Dalton house belonged to the Andersons. They had actually built the house themselves when they first moved to the area back in the 1900s. The story went that one night the elder Mr. Anderson and his son had a fight when a stranger arrived in town and asked for lodgings. Mr. Anderson enraged at his son did not welcome the stranger warmly.

There the story split into many directions. Some claimed that it was the younger Mr. Anderson that acted rudely, and that the stranger was no stranger at all and had been invited by the elder Anderson. Others said that the stranger was welcomed warmly into the home and was present during the fight itself.

In the end, everyone agreed that something happened that night, because in the morning Mr. and Mrs. Anderson packed up and left and the younger Anderson did not leave with them. He was also only sighted once or twice after they left and eventually most people assumed to too had left.

The stranger was never seen again. Mr. and Mrs. Anderson never came back. The house was never put up for sale. Someone always kept the yard immaculate. Sometimes the people in town heard screams and howling.

And as the world progressed around the house more legends build and no one knew what happened to the elder Mr. and Mrs. Anderson. Or their son, Blaine.

When Kurt read about it when he was thirteen, he'd scoffed and rolled his eyes at the crazy theories that surrounded the house and even his dad's tales of when he was a kid. To him it had been silly legend that he didn't believe. Now, being in the house and being kept there against his will by magic he began to wonder who could be right about the house and if he would ever get an answer from the occupants.

The fourth hour of his being there was spent pacing the room. Exhausted from thinking about everything, Kurt was restless and he wanted to go out and do something anything.

By the fifth hour he'd had enough and he opened the door and went out to the hall. True to his word, he kept away from the other rooms on that floor and instead he headed towards the stairs and walked down slowly.

There was no one to be seen or heard around and for a moment Kurt considered trying the door again, but he was already resigned to his fate, so instead he began to walk around the first floor.

The house was somewhat modern for all that it was so old – like someone had renovated it recently and made sure it kept up with the times. The living room was beautiful with matching white sofas and an armchair. There was a fireplace and right above it was a picture that was very familiar to Kurt. He gasped.

It was the Andersons. Mother, father, and the son. Mr. Anderson was tall and broad shouldered. His hair had the slightest bit of a wave and was kept short and out of his face. Blue eyes peered out, gentle and glinting, and his broad smile gave away that he was truly happy. His wife was short, coming just up to his shoulder and she was foreign. Her skin was a shade darker and her dark hair was pinned up – beautifully full and curly. Her eyes were hazel – a mixture of amber and green. Mrs. Anderson didn't gaze out like her husband did, but instead looked in the direction of her son.

Blaine Anderson was exactly the kind of boy that Kurt could have fallen for. He was just a few inches taller than his mother and seemed to have inherited her curly dark hair and eyes though on him they were more amber than green. He didn't look unhappy in the picture, but neither did he look pleased to be there. The smile on his lips – just a gentle crook of the lips – did not reach his eyes. But what he was, was handsome. He looked just what a young gentleman should look.

Kurt had seen a picture of this painting once in one of the books he'd read but it had not made justice to what the painting did.

"I see you've left your room."

Kurt jumped and his gaze dropped from the painting. "I'm sorry," he said, "Wes and David said it was alright. I won't go where I'm not wanted."

The master of the house still covered his face, but the sleeves of his shirt had been pulled back and when Kurt looked at his arms he couldn't help his reaction. He immediately grabbed hold of one arm and he went closer to look.

It was covered it cuts – some fresh and others older.

"What happened to you? Are you alright? You should get those looked at, you know, it can't be good to have…"

He took back his arm and it was only then that Kurt realized who he had been talking to. But the other boy hadn't reacted quickly either.

"I'm fine," he said, his tone was harsh and biting. And then he walked away.

Kurt stared after him but didn't call him back and suddenly he really wanted to know just what was under that hood that he had to hide. He also couldn't help but wonder just what had done that to his arms because if there was one thing that Kurt could be sure about it, it was that those were the wounds brought on by an animal. And if the stories were to be believed then howls and screaming still came from the house.

He wrapped his arms around himself and turned back to stare at the painting. The three figures stood just in front of the house and it looked ever so different from the house now. The hedges and the gate were missing entirely. The house also looked brand new and smaller somehow but just as beautiful.

* * *

Blaine could still feel the gentle, soft hands that had grabbed his arm just a few minutes before and he tried to push the feeling away as well as the expression on Kurt's face; the worried, concerned look that Blaine would not have expected from someone that was trapped in this house. Kurt really was far more interesting than Blaine would have thought.

Blaine had expected repulsion, shock and curiosity. He hadn't been expecting for Kurt to grab his arm and try and see just how badly he was hurt. He rubbed at his arm, but that did nothing to extinguish the ghost feeling left behind of Kurt's gentle thin fingers. God, but he was in trouble.

He hid out in his room and threw off the hat and scarf he'd been using to keep his face and hair hidden and he let himself wonder how Kurt would react to his face. Wes and David had had a hard time getting over it, he remembered; Wes because he was so blunt sometimes, and David because he tried to be sensitive about it. Neither had really looked at him for the first few weeks, not until they realized that they happened almost every night and that for all the healing that he could go through he would always have them. Thad had been better, but he'd gone the way of trying to ignore them all together.

Kurt would see him at some point, he knew, especially if the spell really did keep him there. Blaine couldn't see how Kurt would let his father stay on his behalf.

Watching Kurt with his father had brought back memories of his own parents and his own relationship with his father. It had never been good.

Of course Blaine loved his parents and he and his mother had gotten along very well. But when it came to his father, Blaine never saw eye to eye with him. His father had always seen life in a certain way and when Blaine began to challenge that his father hadn't liked it in the least. And then, when he found out what Blaine was and why he challenged his views that had been the end of it. The blowout of that fight would define the rest of his life as he knew it.

Blaine dropped back and stared at the ceiling, head rested on his arms. The pull of his muscles and the skin full of cuts left a small trill of pain, but it was nothing compared to other pain Blaine had experienced.

For a moment he let himself wonder if Thad was right and Kurt was the one. After all, it wasn't Thad that had made the mistake all that time ago. He was the one at fault for Jeremiah and the spectacle that had been. But maybe Kurt was different. Maybe Kurt was what had made Blaine wait all these years.

But he couldn't let himself hope like that because if he started to hope again and Kurt wasn't that person it would destroy him and maybe all these centuries of waiting would be for nothing.

Someone knocked on his door and Blaine grunted. "Enter," he called.

Wes followed by David entered.

"Kurt's baking," Wes said excitedly, "he found flour in the kitchen and I didn't even know we had some and then he was just pulling stuff out of the cabinets and he's making something delicious I just know it."

Blaine sat up and he couldn't help but grin a little. Wes was out of all of them the most exuberant and the craziest. But David balanced him out.

"Baking, eh?" he asked, "so why are you here?"

"Oh," Wes said and turned to David.

David rolled his eyes good naturedly. "Well," he said, "Kurt wanted to know if you liked red velvet cupcakes or if you'd rather chocolate chip cookies. He can't decide."

"And you can't choose?" He asked.

"He wanted your opinion," David said, "he said something about it being your house and how you should like what he makes."

Kurt just kept surprising him. Baking had just never seemed like something that could be a past time for him. And Blaine was sure that there were no recipes in the house for him to use unless he'd looked one up somehow so he had to have something memorized.

"I don't mind," he said and it was only after Wes and David had gone off, Wes insisting that David skip with him – and Blaine would really never understand him – that Blaine let himself smile.

If nothing else, Kurt was going to change things up. He flopped back down to the floor. For once he wasn't even thinking about what would come when it was nightfall. Instead he smiled and he listened to the laughter of the boys down in the kitchen as well as the sound of appliances that were never used coming to life. He listened when Wes and David left the kitchen, sent away by Kurt, and then he heard a melodious sound crawl up through the house and Kurt's voice washed over him leaving him breathless.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I hope you guys all liked this chapter. All the Blaine parts were the best to write and I couldn't help but throw in some baking (since I do love it and am convinced that Kurt does it for fun). Not sure when the next chapter will be up but hopefully soon. As I said above, if anyone can think of a better title for this please let me know because I really I'm not too big a fan of the one it has now.

If you have any questions don't hesitate to ask. I'm also on tumblr where I will probably leave little progress reports on how my writing is going and occasionally previews for upcoming chapters. So stop by. tumblr: emquin.

Thank you for reading.

Please Review.

-Erika


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **First, what is going on with this site? It just completely changed on me, this is so odd. Anyway, this chapter is most definitely late, but I did announce a small hiatus on tumblr a little bit ago. I've had very little time to work on fic, any and all free time is spent on working on my book and I am working more than before and have had a few trips to go to since the last time I posted.

I went to Apocalyptour in NYC and it was awesome. I also took a trip down to Delaware and had fun there and going back sometime in july.

Anyway, this chapter is a bit odd because I worked on it at many different times. Anyhow, hope you like it anyway.

**Summary: **More than anyone else in the world, Kurt Hummel loves his father. So, when he had a heart attack Kurt feared for the worst and now that he's slowly been getting better, he's been careful to not make him strain himself. One night is all it takes for their world to come tumbling down. When Burt entered the mysterious Dalton house he didn't expect for a world of magic and monsters to be opened up to his family, or that it could be the best thing that ever happened to him and his son. Loosely based on The Beauty and the Beast.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. Fox does...and RIB

* * *

**_Chapter Three_**

The basement was where he transformed and that was where Blaine lay in the soft mattress that had so many bite marks and scratches that Blaine had been considering getting a new one – not that it wouldn't end in the same state. He laid down with a few treats from the kitchen on his bare chest and he couldn't deny that Kurt was definitely a multi-talented man.

He could still hear the other boy just on the level above with his parents. Wes and David had promised to send them on their way by eight and to keep Kurt entertained on the second level afterwards. Blaine hoped they'd come through.

The change happened differently every night for the twenty seven days that it took the moon to move across the sky. The worst was the full moon – it stayed up there longer and it had so much control over him that it was those nights he could barely remember what he'd done. Those were the nights he usually locked himself up. The New moon wasn't all the gentle for him either, but the other phases he could deal with a little better.

Blaine didn't need to lock himself up all the time and even this night wouldn't be so hard the moon being at a crescent, but he was taking all precautions with Kurt in the house. He didn't know what his alter ego would do. It was the unpredictability of it all that drove him crazy.

He grabbed the cupcake he'd been eating and bit into it with a moan. He tasted every ingredient down to the cocoa powder that Kurt must have used and that only made it better. Kurt was definitely a fantastic baker.

The door up in the first floor opened and Kurt was saying his goodbyes. All of his necessary things had arrived including three suitcases full of clothes that Kurt had squealed over earlier even while reprimanding his father about wrinkles. Blaine almost couldn't stand knowing that Kurt was being separated from his family like this. Still though, if Kurt really was the one that would break the curse then it wouldn't be forever. Blaine still didn't know if he wanted to put all of his hopes on the fashionable boy.

He finished the cupcake and closed his eyes, lying still and waiting. Only half an hour later he felt the change begin.

The change began like a tickle under his skin right at the small of his back and then it spread and it was when the hair began to grow, as if it just popped out of his skin. It was soft to the touch at his stomach, but wiry in parts of his legs and arms and as it all grew in his bones too started changing and it was lucky that the breaking and changing of his bones broke was pain that he could block out. It was part of the curse, the pain that came from the change just didn't register in his brain, the chemical reaction that occurred in one's body that alerted the brain of the pain just didn't happen and even though he could feel a kind of pressure as everything happened and changed, the pain was almost none existent.

Blaine closed his eyes and let it happen. There was a certain amount of time in which he felt uncomfortable and awkward in his body as it adjusted, and breathing was hard through all of it but in general Blaine had gotten so used to it that he tried to take it calmly and not move as it happened.

Upstairs Kurt was with Wes and David walking towards the stairs and finally going up to the second level. He let out a harsh breath. One last thing to worry about.

When the hair was all grown, covering all of his body including his face, and his bones on his arms and legs made him more apt for four legged walking, the transformation was complete and Blaine tried to hold back the howl that wanted to rip right out of his throat. His face had changed a little too. He had a bit of a snout, though not as extended as one would see on an actual wolf. Wes had joked once that he was kind of like a shit szu, with the squished nose.

The scents around him were even stronger, now, and his eyesight had gotten much better. He could see everything around him as clearly as he could see anything a few inches in front of him. As soon as he could he was up, first on his hands and legs and then on his legs.

It was awkward to stand like this, but he could manage and he preferred it that way too. His back ached a bit where his spine had changed some, but generally he'd be fine. He walked to the book he'd left out earlier and grabbed it with hands that had long fingernails but that hadn't changed much more than that.

The cuts came from those nails, sharp and long on nights when he was locked up and the moon was full he couldn't help causing himself harm and he hated to even admit to himself that sometimes he did it on purpose. Sometimes feeling that pain was the only thing that kept him feeling.

* * *

Wes and David had told him that it'd be better if he didn't leave his room at night, but they hadn't told him why.

For a while they hung out up there while Kurt was putting away his things and making sure everything was to his liking, but they'd both gone after a while and then Kurt had been on his own and there was so much he could do with the closet and wardrobe space. Once he finished putting as many of his clothes as he could Kurt had gotten bored and then he laid down on the bed and thought and it was only then that everything really hit him.

Reality and Kurt crashed into each other hard and suddenly it wasn't worry for his father driving him or a need to make sure that Burt stayed away from the Dalton house. Now, he was there and there to stay and he wouldn't see his dad or Carole until the next time they visited and Kurt couldn't even be sure that the master would agree to it. He'd been weird about them leaving as quickly as possible before he'd gone off and never come back.

Kurt was stuck there at this house that was cableless and internetless and phoneless with a bunch of boys that wore some sort of school uniform and a master of the house that still had not showed Kurt his face. As it all finally fell into his head Kurt couldn't help but let the dread what could come next wash over him.

Would he ever leave the house and see the outside world again? Would he ever be able to accomplish his dreams? Go to New York and fall in love and be on Broadway and achieve all the fame that he knew he deserved? Would he ever go shopping again for the latest trends?

Nothing was certain and yet everything told him that he was going to be stuck in that house with the other boys until whatever magic was holding him, let him go or if his dad took his place and that definitely wasn't an option.

A howl broke through the house then and Kurt paused and gasped. What was that? The howl came again. He wanted to go out and figure out what it could be just as much as he wanted to curl up on the bed and pretend that he wasn't hearing anything at all.

He took a look around the room. His life was going to be this; this room that didn't describe him at all, and couldn't hold all his clothes and didn't accommodate for someone with a facial cleansing routine.

A knock on his door startled him, but then it opened. Thad stepped inside.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Kurt nodded. "What was that, the howling?"

Thad stared at him for a while as if he were weighing Kurt to see how he would take it.

"It's part of the curse," Thad said, "and you're going to find out soon enough anyway. He turns into a beast, a wolf sort of, every night."

Kurt gasped. "But how?"

"I can't tell you everything," Thad said, "he has to, but he's in the basement and he's harmless really except if you anger him and he won't hurt you so there's nothing to worry about."

Kurt somehow doubted that. Of course there was something to worry about. The master of the house was some sort of werewolf and even if he was locked up in the basement of the house Kurt couldn't help but be scared for his life.

"Please don't treat him differently," Thad added, "it's not his fault."

"The scars," he blurted out, "on his arms, they're a part of this right?"

Thad only nodded. He made Kurt promise to not leave his room and now that he knew what was out there Kurt was definitely going to abide by that rule. Then, Thad left and Kurt was alone again.

He sat on the bed, right dab on the middle of it and he knew that sleep wouldn't come easy if it even did at all. Never before had he felt so alone, not even with all the bullying at school had he felt this way because then he would have his room and his dad and he had glee club.

Glee club. Kurt hadn't even though of them, and really no one could blame him for not. But he'd forgotten about his friends. What kind of explanation could they get? He might be able to talk to them on his cell phone still but only if he could get a signal in that house and it had been hard enough earlier when his dad called. The call had almost been cut off.

He didn't let himself worry about them, though. Somehow they would get through and wouldn't end up even needing him. They might even forget him if he spent enough time stuck in this house away from the rest of the world.

Kurt didn't know when he fell asleep or how he even managed sleep, but sometime during the night he'd laid back and then just fallen asleep. When he woke up it was because he was cold and he heard another howl and scratching and whining. It was still dark out and Kurt got up to turn on the lamp.

He heard movement in the house, the creaking of a floorboard, the rustle of clothes, and footsteps and then a door slammed somewhere downstairs and then there was running. Kurt stood by the lamp, almost shaking, remembering there was a beast, as Thad had called the master, in the house.

His door was thrown open and he screamed.

"Kurt, oh my god," Wes said, a hand coming to his chest, "are you okay?"

Kurt glared at the other boy. "You suck," he told him, "you absolutely suck I thought…you're a horrible person."

Wes stared at him shocked. "You know?"

"Thad told me and it probably wasn't a good idea to freak me out that way."

"I was only coming in to ask if you wanted a snack," Wes said, "maybe not the best idea?"

Kurt sighed. He really couldn't hate Wes. "No, you know what, I could use a snack." That's how he found himself in Wes' bedroom with some of his own baked goods, pop corn, and a movie playing on a TV that looked like it was at the very least some ten years old – definitely not the plasma flat screens he was used to.

"Don't tell Thad or David I took you out of your room – they like stickling to rules and you were technically supposed to stay put."

Kurt was already sure that he was really going to like Wes best out of all of them. He was after all the one that had gotten him to his dad. Kurt didn't even fault him for now being stuck in this house away from his dad.

He fell asleep next to Wes and Wes must have dozed off at some point too because when Kurt woke up the next morning it was in Wes' room with the other boy's head on his shoulder and a crick on his neck.

Kurt crawled out of the bed and stretched, rubbing at his neck for a while before he checked the clock on Wes' wall. It was only 6 am, but Kurt was used to waking up early to get himself ready for school. And since his dad's heart attack he'd also been preparing his dad breakfast as well as leaving ready to just be warmed up lunch and making sure all his pills were out for him. He wasn't surprised that he was up so early and not entirely tired.

He couldn't hear anyone else up in the house, but he decided he could go make breakfast for everyone anyway. Even though he was a reluctant guest, Kurt couldn't help but want to be a good one.

* * *

Blaine woke up on the stairs, fully naked and with fresh bruises and cuts marring his skin. His body was sore and hurt all over, but he still stood up and grabbed the extra clothes that he'd left out and slipped them on. He unlocked the door and closed it behind him and walked towards the kitchen to grab a water bottle. His senses were a little thrown right when he awoke, as if they too were groggy and just cranking up so he didn't smell or hear anyone in the kitchen when he entered, but he did see Kurt and worse, Kurt saw him.

He was frozen on the spot and Kurt's eyes had widened but they didn't leave his uncovered face but neither did he act revolted or with some form of pity, all he saw was sadness and curiosity and shock.

"How are you?" he asked suddenly and it was then that Blaine was struck by how different Kurt was from anyone else.

"I – it was alright."

He nodded and hummed, "I'm making breakfast."

"Oh. You don't have to."

He grabbed a glass out of a cupboard and filled it up with water. He looked towards Kurt and watched him as he walked around the kitchen as if he already knew where everything was. He really was like nothing Blaine had ever expected.

"I know," Kurt said, "I want to. You can help me if you want?"

Kurt also didn't avoid looking at him. When he asked him to help, he turned directly towards Blaine, eyes not looking past him but directly at him.

"Why?" he asked and the question came out before he could stop it.

"Why what?" Kurt asked.

He was opening the bread bag, but paused to look at him again.

"Why aren't you freaking out? My face, my scars, I'm a monster."

"But you're not," Kurt countered, "you're covered in scars that I can't imagine are not painful and I know a lot of people would treat you differently because of it and even make fun of it, I don't know – there are horrible people in this world – but I think being this monster because of a curse is a better fate than actually acting like a monster and so far I haven't seen you do that." Kurt smiled at him, and added, "now, can I ask something?"

Blaine nodded. "Yes?"

"Are you the Blaine Anderson in that picture out in your living room? The resemblance is uncanny but you're…you can't be that old…"

He was that Blaine Anderson. He was the boy in the picture that he remembered having to stand so still for. He was surprised that Kurt even knew his name, but then Kurt would never stop surprising him.

"I am," he said.

"Wow," Kurt muttered, "looking good for your age."

Blaine laughed. "It's part of the curse, Kurt. I don't age – I won't age, until it's broken."

"But it can be broken?"

He nodded. Of course it could be broken, there was only a question of if it ever would. Too many moments of false hope had left him not hoping at all and suddenly there was Kurt and Blaine didn't want to let himself hope too much that this time it would be broken, that this time he'd found the person that could do it.

"I just don't know if it ever will."

Kurt returned to making breakfast, but he reached over and squeezed his arm. "I think it will."

That made him hope more than ever.

"So, Blaine," Kurt said, "how old are you, then?"

"Eighteen."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean? And seriously, I don't want to go through the whole Twilight convo because that'd be ridiculous."

Blaine snorted. "Twilight, Kurt, really?"

Kurt shrugged. "Don't judge me, I have a weakness for Taylor Lautner and you might even appreciate that I felt that way all things considered."

"Thad told you?"

Kurt nodded. "I was wondering about the howling," Kurt said and continued to scramble the eggs in a bowl while he looked at Blaine, "you know I won't make you lock yourself up if that isn't what you do normally."

"It's a precaution."

"Not necessary."

Kurt finished making breakfast quickly, as if it was something he did every day and Blaine couldn't understand just why Kurt seemed to know his way around his kitchen better than Blaine.

"Should we wake the other boys or just leave them food?"

"Let them sleep," Blaine said even though he knew Wes and David were probably going to start waking up soon. He wanted more time with Kurt on his own and if he had to lie to get it then he would.

"Okay," Kurt said and sat down after placing two plates with food at the kitchen table.

* * *

Kurt found that he wasn't too surprised that Blaine was such a likable guy. He looked almost nothing like the boy from the painting but Kurt found that he was glad that Blaine wasn't the handsome boy that Kurt would have immediately crushed on without really getting a sense for a personality. For all that he knew to look past appearance, Kurt couldn't deny that he did have an eye for beauty.

None of the other boys appeared while they ate breakfast and Kurt was glad, he was glad that he had this time with Blaine to really get to know the boy that had been cursed all those years ago. He wanted to know everything about the curse and how it had led Blaine to staying young for that long and how it fit with the whole turning into a beast every night thing. But he didn't ask.

Instead, he let Blaine ask him questions.

"Is baking something you wanted to pursue?" He asked, "your cupcakes last night were delicious."

"My mom was a baker," he admitted, "she had a book full of recipes she'd gathered since she was little – some of them passed down through family, but a lot ones she made up or fixed up from a different source and before she died we baked together a lot and it's something I do for her sort of, but it isn't my dream no."

Blaine hadn't hesitated to grab his hand, a move of comfort, and Kurt had almost smiled at the gesture because now that he was finally getting to know Blaine, Kurt was sure that the cursed master of the house tried to act like the monster he thought everyone perceived him as even though really he seemed like the kind of guy that had just been wronged. Kurt intended to find everything about the curse out and break it if he could or find a way for someone else to do it.

"I'm sorry about your mom – I did wonder about Carole."

"My dad's girlfriend," Kurt explained, "I think they're going to get married someday. It's actually…I set them up." He couldn't help a small laugh because of how ridiculous his reason had been for it all.

"Then what are you interested in? What did you want to do?"

Kurt paused before he answered. "I wanted to perform. Broadway. Or maybe go into fashion – but New York definitely. I guess…I guess I can't do that anymore though."

At that Blaine immediately closed down, he looked helpless as he stared at Kurt, as if he wanted to just in that moment say that he could go and that he wouldn't hold him back like this, or make him part of his curse.

"It's not your fault," Kurt told him at once, "it's the circumstances, and maybe…maybe we'll find a way to break it and we'll both be free."

Blaine didn't respond to that.

When they finished breakfast, Blaine decided to go get the other boys up and Kurt started cleaning up even though Blaine told him not to. But Kurt had been cleaning after everyone for as long as he could remember. His dad often made fun how he'd started dusting when he was three and really, truly liked it.

Wes, Thad, and David appeared a while later but Blaine didn't and Kurt let them serve themselves while he finished up and then left the kitchen again.

He knew better than to wander around the house after the whole mess that had been caused by his father's exploring, so instead he went back to his room and pulled out a notebook from the bunch he'd been brought. He needed to start writing notes on the curse and he needed to get as much information as he could on it. Kurt didn't have much to start with, but he had asked his dad to bring his old books from back when he was fascinated with the Dalton house and the Andersons. So, he pulled them out and dropped them on the desk. He was going to get them out of this and not only because Blaine didn't deserve this life, or the boys that had attached themselves to him, but neither could he give up his dreams.

He opened one and began reading.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Hope you liked this. I also cannot promise a quick update, but one eventually. hopefully in a few weeks. Reviews totally encourage writing.

If you have any questions don't hesitate to ask. I'm also on tumblr where I will probably leave little progress reports on how my writing is going and occasionally previews for upcoming chapters. So stop by. tumblr: emquin.

Thank you for reading.

Please Review.

-Erika


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